It's Like Hell Here
by ggirl1710
Summary: *Pre-Johnny and the Sprites* Years before he inherited his uncle's home in the woods, before meeting the sprites, Johnny was a nineteen year old patient at Second Life Rehabilitation Center. He was an alcoholic, and being treated for alcoholism. Done in First Person, Johnny tells us his story from when he entered rehab to when he gets his uncle's home and his life changes.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Everyone has a past that you would never expect them to have, no matter what kind of person they are during the present time. I'm one of them.

Everyone has a story about that dreadful past. This is mine.

You know me as Johnny T., friends of the sprites and fuzzies and especially you.

I have to be honest though. I wasn't always a perfect guy that never had any flaws. Everyone has flaws, and I've had my share. Those flaws began during my Senior year of high school and ended when i inherited my uncle's home in the woods, where I met the sprites. There was a time where I wasn't in complete control of what I did as I matured for adulthood and who I hung out with. Mostly I didn't know any better way of dealing with my problems on my own. I needed something to take it away from me, to make the pain and troubles go away.

I didn't know any better.

I was an alcoholic by the age of nineteen. I drank liquor all the time during that time of my life, and after many attempts to persuade me to stop my own family held an intervention for me.

It hurt a bit, but I realized that all they wanted was for me to get help. A part of me knew that I needed to seek help.

I didn't want my life to end early. I already knew that I wanted to be a musician, and I wanted to pursue that dream.

I was determined to save myself from my alcoholism, and thus begins my story.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

"Welcome to Second Life Rehabilitation Center, Johnny.", the head doctor greeted as I got out of the cab when I arrived at the rehab finally. Strange, he's a doctor yet he isn't wearing a white doctor's coat. The nurse beside him, who at least had on a normal white nursing dress with her grayish hair in a bun and wore glasses like Granny from the Looney Tunes cartoons, took my baggage from the trunk of the cab.

"We've been expecting you.", the doctor added.

"Uh...sure.", I said. I can already tell that I'm going to hate it here.

The nurse, I'll call her Granny Nurse, gets my guitar case. She almost drops it to the ground. I gave her a dirty and annoyed look. She softly apologizes.

"Now kindly step inside and we'll check you in, then we'll show you to your room." The doctor put his hand on my left shoulder and smiled a friendly grin, his own way of showing amity...and pity. I can see that he had lines of gray hair in his raven black hair. I looked down on his hand on my shoulder.

I was miles away from my home and family, I've spent thirty minutes in a cab with a Mexican driver who speaks horrible God damn English and won't shut the hell up. I was pissed off that I had to go to a "special" place to rid off my addiction. I just wanted to knock out his teeth.

I don't need your act of friendship and pity, old man.

And so that's what I kept calling him; Dr. Old Man. Even though he looked like he was in his fifties, I still secretly called him is.

Old Man, Granny Nurse, and I walked through the walkway of the rehab. At least the garden looked dazzling with red and pink roses and azaleas and various colors of hibiscus. The walkway was a lane with round stones and wood chips all around. As I looked up at the house I saw that it was ginormous and it looked like an old fashioned mansion, almost like the Von Trapp home in The Sound of Music.

And that's just the outside.

When we walked inside the home it looked just like how I expected it to be. There were large stairs to the second floor from both the left and the right. The hallways looked long and the doors were large too. It was hard to believe that this was a rehabilitation center! It was amazingly beautiful!

Old Man and Granny Nurse lead me to a room where another elderly woman was behind a desk at a computer with file folders all over the desk. "Johanna," Old Man began, "this is Jonathan, the new coming patient for alcoholism." He turns to me. "Jonathan, this is Ms. Johanna Vaper. She is our receptionist."

I put on my best fake smile and said, "Hey."

"How do you do.", she answered. She had an English accent and had medium dark brown hair with blue eyes like Julie Andrews, again reminding me of The Sound of Music. She handed me a clipboard with a sign-in sheet. I knew where this was going. I wrote in my full name and home address and home phone number. There was a box where I had to write what addiction I'm being treated for. With a huff, I wrote down Alcoholism.

"What a fancy, fancy word that is, Doc. Alcoholism. Who knew there was such a word.", I sarcastically said.

"Well apparently there is." Dr. Old Man must've known that I was angered. "Please understand, Johnny, that your family loves you very much and they just want the best for you. That's why they sent you here. We don't mean to hurt you, we just want to help."

Whatever, I thought.

"Just one more thing or two, Johnny.", Ms. Johanna said. "We must check your luggage in case you're hiding any hazardous substances."

I immediately got defensive. "Why do that? It's not like I packed any guns or knives or explosives."

"It's for safety reasons and for your own good, Johnny.", Dr. Old Man said. "We don't want you to carry anything that would be any problem to your treatment and recovery."

"You're saying I'm suicidal, that I'm crazy? I'm not!" I was getting ready to sock some people down. I'm here because my family and friends gave me an intervention because they don't want what's best for me, they don't love me. They wanted to send me away because they're tired of me "always having a drink". They didn't want to deal with my bullshit, like how I didn't want to deal with their bitching.

"We don't mean to intend this, Johnny. It's just the rules patients must follow. Wether you agree or not, you must let us check your baggage."

I was close to resisting even further close to making a scene. Who does this old timer and old hags think they are than being my stupid nurse and doctor? I was going to express my anger with my fist when Old Man said, "Perhaps we should call in security for any assistance."

I sighed deeply and gave in. "Fine, go ahead, but be careful with my guitar case if you're going to open it."

So the doctor and nurse both took my things and unzipped the cases. I was at least joyful that they kept my clothes tidy, and Granny Nurse didn't trash my guitar. Old Man got my book bag where I keep my notebook full of songs, and peeked inside. He grinned as he reached inside and pulled out my blue stainless steel water bottle.

"Cool it, Doc.", I told him, crossing my arms stubbornly. "It's filled with water."

"Is it really?", he said, quizzing me.

"Don't believe me, go ahead. I dare you to take a sniff."

He popped the cap off and sniffed the inside, he grins at me. I grinned back. "Oops. That's not apple juice.", I joked.

"Correct.", Old Man held the steel bottle over a large cactus plant and poured the beer over it. It's a good thing the cactus plant inside it was hideous. If it were the roses like the ones outside it'd be a shame because the alcohol is poison to the soil.

"I suppose you're gonna body search me, huh?" I took this as an opportunity to do my share of being obnoxious. I put my hands against the wall and spread out my legs. "Come on, search me. I double dare you." I looked back at them, wiggling my tongue seductively.

"No, I think we're done with the inspection.", Dr. Old Man said.

"That's what I thought, pussies." I took my own baggage and followed my two rather ancient acquaintances as they led me to my room. "I'm not sorry about your plant, Johanna. It was ugly already to begin with.", I said as I left the room, cackling wickedly.

We walked up the large stairs to the bedrooms. As we passed by every bedroom I saw that when some of them had the door open, and when I'd sneak a peek I saw that each room had two beds. "So does this mean I'll be getting a roommate?", I asked.

"Certainly you are.", Granny Nurse said to me. "His name's Brady. He's a drug addict."

"A drug addict? I don't get a roommate that's here for alcoholism like me?"

"We don't allow patients with the same addiction be roommates. There's a higher risk of danger and not recovering if that happens.", Old Man said. "If both are drug addicts then both will share the same danger of their addiction. Soon both will make a plan to try to continue not ridding their addition, and to make a plan to sneak in drugs."

"Either this or they might kill each other off because they know the same skills.", Granny Nurse added. "It's like prison, never let the inmates that are charged with the same crime be cell mates. It's double trouble."

Eventually we got to my new room, C-208. Old Man gave a couple of knocks on the door to let my new roommate know that I'm here. The Doc twisted the knob and opened the door. There lying on the bed closest to the window was a rather youngish looking guy, but I know that he could be older than me still. He was a scrawny looking dude, maybe even more skinnier than me with all the drugs he's taken. His hair was dirty blonde and down to his shoulders, and he had a very pale skin tone. He wore skinny jeans with some tears here and there and a Bob Marley T-Shirt, which in my book was quite suitable for him. He looked like a hippie that escaped from Woodstock.

All he was doing was tossing up a small red rubber ball as he lay there, catching and throwing with one hand while the other was resting on his abdomen. This is my new roommate.

"Brady, this is your new roommate Jonathan T., or Johnny as he would prefer.", Old Man said. "Make him feel at home."

Brady let out a slow, "Sure" and quit his play for a moment.

Old Man and Granny Nurse only let me and Brady know that dinner was in twenty minutes and that they guarantee that I'll like it here. Whatever. At long last, they left me alone and now there was Brady, who was looking at me funny. He seemed to be observing me.

"If it doesn't bother you if I ask this question, how old are you?", he asked me.

"Nineteen.", I told him. Before I could ask the same question Brady let out a thunderous couch then turned back to me, shaking his head and chuckling.

"You're nineteen?", he said with so much surprise. "God, man! You're just a little boy! No fresh faced kid like you should be here." Brady began to sit up and turned his whole body towards me. He coughed loudly again before pointing a thumb to himself. "I'm thirty-six. I should have Life clenched in the palm of my hand, but look where I am!"

I was beyond being shocked. "Thirty-six?! You look a much younger than that! Sure thirty-six is still being a Spring chicken but you look so much younger, like if you're in your twenties!"

"That's what they all say, Johnny Boy. Truth is that I've got an eating disorder. They try to feed me a whole lot but I just can't. I only eat half of the amount."

"I thought you're here for drug abuse, not for an eating disorder.", I said. "I thought it was drugs that were making you skinny, and even pale."

Brady snort a laugh. "I guess the old bastard didn't tell you enough about me. I'm a drug addict, that part is true, but I'm also anorexic. I use to be as fat as an elephant. I hated working out so I lost weight the easy way, puking it out. So you see, drugs and not eating much has made me a walking skeleton."

"What do you do when breakfast, lunch, and dinner come around?"

Another could went by. Brady covered his mouth as the coughing grew louder and violent. When he finished he continued to talk. "I told you, I only eat a small amount. I at least try to eat because they took all of my pills and stuff, but I never finish the plate."

"I see."

I got tired of standing around, so I finally took a seat on my bed. There, I saw, was a red journal on my pillow. "What's that for?", I asked.

"They want you to keep a journal and write in it every night while you're here.", Brady said. "Today would be Day 1 for ya."

"What day is this for you?"

Brady sighed. "Day 32."

I've just met this junkie and already he's amazing me. "You've been here for 32 days?! You sure you're keeping track correctly?"

Brady lifted up his pillow, showing another red journal. "Here. I've been keeping track alright." He tossed me his journal. I caught it in my hands and observed the cover. In white letters in what looked like Times New Roman font read _Second Life Rehabilitation Center Daily Journal. _

The book lives up to its name. I scrolled through the pages and saw that Brady really was keeping track. The pages went from Day 1 to Day 32. I tossed it back to him. "So you know all that goes on here?", I asked him.

"Pretty much so." He grinned sinisterly at me and with sarcasm said, "Welcome to Hell."

* * *

The food stunned me. The catering was delicious, like it was from a five star restaurant! I really had no one to sit with though so I was thankful that Brady was generous enough to let me sit with him and two other patients. "This here is Johnny.", Brady introduced. "He's new meat just got here twenty minutes ago, right in time for the grub."

"Hey, nice to have a new fresh face here.", the guy of the two said. "You're gonna love it here."

I groaned. "That's what everyone says." I swear, if I have one more person tell me this I'll snap their neck.

"Just be glad it ain't prison.", the girl said. We all agreed. She gave me her hand to shake. "I'm Rachel. I'm here for anorexia, like Brady here without the drug addict part."

"I'm Mathew.", the same guy said. "I'm in because I have major depression. It certainly doesn't help that I have bipolar disorder. What are you here for?"

I groaned apprehensively. "I guess you can say that I'm an alcoholic."

"Serious shit, man?", Rachel asked. "Alcoholism then? You seem too young to be an alcoholic. Hell, you're probably the youngest patient here."

"The guy's nineteen, practically a baby.", Brady said.

"Damn.", Mathew said, shaking his head. "That sucks. So why did you start drinking booze?"

I didn't want to explain my whole story on when and why started drinking liquor. I wasn't ready. Plus, I've already been assured that the next Support Group meeting is tomorrow so I decided to hold my sob story until then. What I told Rachel and Mathew and even Brady was just a bit of it. "I started drinking because I've been hanging with a wrong crowd during my Senior year of high school. You know, stupid teenager shit now that I think of it."

"I feel ya, man.", Brady said. "Been there, done that."

For the rest of the time at that table I didn't feel like a weirdo or uncomfortable. It actually felt nothing like prison, not that I've ever gone to prison before, but now this place doesn't seem all that bad now that I was getting to know some of the other patients here.

At least that's what I'm feeling right now. Who knows if my mind will still be what I came with later on. What I only know right now is that every one here is here for tragic life threatening reasons, including me. And we're all here to achieve two goals: To quit our addiction and get a second chance at life.

There are questions though. Will we achieve those goals? Do we follow the yellow brick road to our new life, or does the Wicked Witch of the West, known as Addiction, stop us in our tracks during our journey to home?

* * *

That night, I began writing my first journal entry.

_Day 1: _

_I've arrived around 5:10 in the afternoon, just when it's almost time for dinner. When I got here I already knew that I was going to hate it here. The stupid head doctor, who I call Old Man, and one of the elderly nurses, who I call Granny Nurse, annoy me. _

_When I met my roommate Brady and some of the other patients, however, I felt completely normal, like if I belonged here. Everyone here is like me, they're battling a deadly addiction. My roommate Brady is batting anorexia and drug addiction. My new friends Rachel is up against anorexia too, and Mathew is suffering from major depression. He'd have suicidal thoughts, and he still does. _

_Me, I'm battling alcoholism. I don't know if I'll win though. I'd be thirsty but they took away my stainless bottle of beer, and they give me water. _

_It's for the best, but it's not wine or beer. _

_I don't know if I'm able to stand up against the fight. Besides the friends I've made so far, it's like hell here. _


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Support group was exactly how I pictured it when I walked in. Chairs were arranged in a circle in a small room, which had the A.C cranked down so that it was freezing in there. Brady sat to my left, with Mathew to his then Rachel. I could already tell that there were going to be more cast of characters that are bats in the belfry as they say.

I knew I was going to meet other alcoholics, so I was preparing myself to be depressed when I hear their stories because I'm one of them. Let's get this shit over with.

"Great seeing everyone back today." Dr. Ellis, one of the therapists here, began. "As we all can understand, though, we have a new friend here with us." He points his pen to me. "This is Johnny. He arrived just yesterday afternoon as I've been told by Dr. Montgomery. I hope we're giving him a proper welcome like normal citizens and not like how middle schoolers treat a new student to the school like pushing him into lockers and calling him a faggot."

He turns to me. "Johnny, how we start every Tuesday Support Group meeting is by giving introductions, age, why we're here, then we share how our progress is. Would you mind going first just to get it over with?"

I always hats being the first to start something, regardless of what it is. I didn't want to be rude though so I said, "Sure."

"Alrighty then. You have my attention." Dr. Ellis was a young looking guy, maybe in his thirties. He didn't even look like what I expected. I was expecting all of the therapists to be in their sixties with no fashion sense, like Granny Nurse...even though I've only seen her in her nursing uniform and nothing else. Thank God. Ellis, however, he wore nothing formal. Just a plaid shirt buttoned up with short sleeves and black jeans and blue sneakers. Now that's my kind of therapist!

My mouth felt dry, and again began my wicked thirst. I'd have to settle with my plastic cup of water from the 5 gallon jug. I wish I could stop wishing for a six pack if Corona. "Well, my name's John, but I like to be called Johnny. I'm 19, and I'm an alcoholic."

Like all Support Group's, everyone there chanted "Hi Johnny". After I introduced myself Dr. Ellis had everyone continue the usual introductions, starting with Brady, then it went to Mathew then to Rachel then to all of the other patients. When it all finished up the counting kicked in: 9 drug addicts, 7 with eating disorders, 4 with depression, 3 sex addicts, and 1 alcoholic.

Ok, so I was wrong. I'm the only alcoholic here. What else is new?

"Ok, great work introducing yourselves to our newcomer.", Dr. Ellis said. "So Johnny, what's your story? What made you start drinking at the young age that you are now?"

Here we go, the backstory, but I knew I had to suck it up. "Well, it began during my Senior year of high school."

* * *

There's tons of friends and family members at this cookout, enjoying the celebration, but all of my attention is on the two of them. I watched corruptly as my mother was being held by Jim, and I despised how infatuated they looked. I saw it in their eyes.

"How's your final year of school going for you, Johnny?", my uncle Steve asked.

I turned away from glaring at my mom and so-to-be stepdad and faced my uncle, putting on a smile as if nothing is bothering me. "Oh it's bittersweet. The pressure sure is on, but I'm excited to graduate."

"Good to here that.", my uncle said. "So what will you do after high school, start looking for colleges or get a new job?"

"I still have my weekend job at Starbucks.", I told him. My older sister Lina and I had to start finding jobs early to help my mom bring in the money to support her, me, Lina, and our other sister Tina.

"Yeah, I know, but how is a five hour job on Saturdays and Sundays with you just mopping the floor and washing tables and cleaning up after other people bringing home the Benjamin's?", my uncle said. "You need a high paying job while you work on getting a career, my boy. Be like your older sister Lina."

As she heard that, my sister Lina gave him a teasing slap. "Hey! Don't compare us, Uncle Steve. He's doing the best he can, aren't you Johnny."

I'm glad she has my back on things. "Yeah, just whatever helps Mom. And I'm not mopping anymore, for your information, Uncle. I make the drinks now."

"True.", my sister Tina said. She was next to me. "In fact, they like John's lattes and drinks so much better."

My uncle said, "Well at least they upgraded you, Jonathan, but how much do you get paid?"

"$10 an hour."

"That means you get $50. Bah! That doesn't seem like enough." Uncle Steve was a lawyer, and a very skilled one, so he knows how much is enough when getting paid. He's probably paid anything like $70 an hour. Me, I'm only seventeen. He's like fifty-five. I'm young, and he's old. I think he should know that there's a difference in age. "Anyways, I don't think you and Lina should worry a hair on your heads about the money and work hard for it. Your new dad Jim will take care of the finances I believe."

I hated that phrase more than anything, New Dad. Not just Dad, but New Dad. I glanced back at Jim and my mom as they were sitting at another picnic table chatting with other work friends. He had his arm around her, and that bothered me. It got me steaming. He may be marrying our mother, but he'll never be a father figure to me. Even though my real dad and my mom split when my sisters and I were little kids I still wish that they were still together.

When I learned that my dad skipped I was lost. I didn't understand because I was only seven years old, but I still wanted him home. There would be times where I'd dream of him coming back and taking me away from here, but I knew I couldn't just leave my mom and sisters.

My real dad brought us into this world, not Jim. It was my real dad that raised us before he left, not Jim. He ain't even a stepdad to me. He's a replacement, and it hurts me that everybody here is fooled and happy that this guy is marrying my mom.

I'm not fooled though. I know what's right.

Eventually my uncle left the table. I saw the crates of Corona beer, there were three glass bottles left. They were calling me as I began getting thirsty. They were demanding me to drink down all three of them. I wasn't much of a beer drinker, but the sudden thirst was quenching in my mouth and I needed something to take my mind off of Jim.

I gave myself over. I got up from the picnic table, and I lingered to the bottles. The walk seemed like a thousand miles. In my mentality, the Corona's snickered at me. I grabbed a bottle, stared at it long and hard, then popped the cap with an opener. Everything else around me muted, like it was only me and this beer bottle in the park.

I wasted no precious time and I threw my head back, chugging down the cold drink. The liquid ran down my throat as I drank, and drank, and drank without stopping for air.

In less than a minute the glass bottle was empty, but it sure did erase Jim from my mind. I threw that bottle down to the ground and popped open the second Corona as if my life depended on it. I needed not only a drink, I needed something to take out the frustration. I chugged down the beer like the first one, and after that I repeated for the last bottle.

After drinking all three I felt like throwing up, but I didn't care. I satisfied my thirst and I satisfied my mind. At that moment I knew that if this is the only way to get my mind off of Jim marrying my mother for a moment or two, then drinking will be my escape.

* * *

"John," my mom began. "We all need to speak with you."

I glared at her, my sisters, and Jim as they slapped eating dinner. I stopped too. "Ok, what about?" Everyone looked serious.

"Johnny, you need to quit the constant alcohol abuse.", she said. "You've been at it since Senior year. You're nineteen now! Listen to us when we tell you to stop!"

Not this again. They've been trying to get me to stop drinking for days, and I'm pretty sure it ain't going to be the last time.

"Johnny, if you don't get this under control you're going to hit rock bottom.", Lina said. "You need to get some help."

"Please, John.", Tina said. She sounded upset, almost close to tears. I really did hate to see any of my sisters or my mom sad. They've suffered enough.

"Do it for not only us, but for you, son.", Jim said.

That finally got me boiling. That was the last straw. I gave Jim a nasty look that could kill. "I'm not your fucking son, Jim.", I said to him so clearly so everyone can hear.

"Jonathan!", my mom exclaimed. "Apologized to your father."

I've had enough. "No! He's not my dad! He's not Lina and Tina's either! The man that you married before Jim, the man that you let go, is our dad, our real dad."

My mother grew stern. "That may be true, but I did not let your actual father go. We stopped seeing things through the same eyes, and we always fought."

"You stopped loving him too.", I said. "You two stopped sleeping in the same bed. You and Dad weren't in love anymore, but you only pretended that you did for me and Tina and Lina. You lied to us."

"John-", Lina started.

"You lied to your three children!", I shout to my mother, slamming down a fist on the table in rage. "You were in love before you had us, and when you did you still were, but that was all a wicked game! You faked smiles and laughs! You lied in our faces!"

"Your father and I could not see eye to eye anymore, John! I told you already!", my mother cried.

"Well if that was the case then you should've worked things out!", I argued. "You could've gone to a couples therapist or something like that, but no! You and Dad always argued about every single fucking thing! You let Dad go, and you've never let us even talk to him on the phone."

My mother shook her head, and breathed heavily. She spoke calmly to hold her temper. "He moved around a lot, so I never had his phone number.", she said. "He went on to do his own thing. Your father never visited you kids and he never called, not even a letter in the mail. He abandoned you."

"Don't say that, you crazy bitch!" I was getting so enraged. Tears began to get to my eyes, burning them. My beating heart felt like it was about to cut out of my chest through my skin and I just couldn't bare it. When will the lies end, if they were lies. I hope they weren't.

Lina and Tina knew that the moment was heated and they both hurried upstairs before things got too ugly. Even when Lina is older than me I think she's and Tina are emotionally younger than me, and I didn't want them to be as upset as I am. I knew I was making a scene, but Mother was forcing me to fly off the handle.

"He did not abandon us!", I continued. "It's not true! It's not! It's not fucking true." I immediately began to sob. I cupped my face and weeped into them.

"Johnny, listen.", Jim said. "We don't want to bring sorrow and pain on you or your sisters or your mother. Your mom's raised you and your sisters all by herself for the longest time. Don't you think she deserves another chance at love? Don't you think it's about time you and your sisters get a stepdad?"

"But you're not even that!", I told him. "You're only a replacement, you hear me? A replacement! Just because you married our mother doesn't mean your our new dad. Just because Tina and Lina accept you doesn't mean I have to. I still care about my dad because I'm his son since Day One, and I'm not going to let another man take his place just because he's not here."

Jim looked like he was finally getting pissed off. He stood up and towered over me, glaring at me coldly. "Boy, you better calm down and get your act together. I know I'm not your biological father, but he is gone. He left you, and you need to face the fact that he is not here and that he is never coming back for you.

Now your mother and I want you to check yourself into a rehab and get some help for your drinking problem."

* * *

"Finally I had enough and I got up to leave the house because I've had enough of it. Before I walked out I told him that he was the reason I was drinking, and then I walked out the door."

"Wow. That must've been rough for him to take in.", Jodie, one of the sex addicts, said softly.

"Sorry you went through something like that, Johnny.", Lara, one of the other drug addicts, said as she wiped a tear from her eye.

"So where did you go after you left?", Dr. Ellis asked.

I told them that I took a walk around town to let off some steam. It was a cold winter night and, just my luck, I didn't even have on a cozy jacket or coat. I just wanted to get away from there. I didn't know where I was to go to, but it didn't matter. I rubbed my shoulders to keep warm against the 78 degree weather, chilled smoke blowing out of my nostrils like a huge dragon does when it's breathing through its nose.

I passed by buildings of small boutique shops and Mexican restaurants with cars just rushing by me so fast that they're just colored blurs. I kept wandering hotly and cursing Jim and my mom and myself and the whole entire world under my gritted teeth. I hated that my mom said that my real dad abandoned us, I didn't want it to be true. I didn't want any other man coming into my home and replacing my father, even though he wasn't here anymore.

I still was attached to him after all these years and I wanted him here, and the thing that burned me the most about all of this was that I still never fully understood why he was gone, or why he left me.

Along the way, after lingering for who knows how long, I started to feel like something was not quite right, like if a puzzle piece was placed in the wrong place. I started to feel dizzy and nauseous, and my stomach adapted a sour feeling. I felt weak as my head started to ache. Then it occurred to me, it's happening again. I knew what this could mean, I've gone through this lots of times. I felt something hot flow up my throat and I stopped walking. I tried to keep it down because I was in the public eye with no real destination to go to, but the fluid kept rising.

You know when you have a hose on a hot summer day and you're playing with it and you squeeze it so the water won't come out of the opening. That's what I was trying to do because I was on the edge of vomiting and I didn't want to do it here without a restroom or at least a trash can nearby.

Thankfully I saw a 7-Eleven convenient store and the next thing I knew I was off in a second, dashing to get to there before I blast, covering my mouth.

I only made it to the parking lot before I lost the battle, and I spewed out tannish vomit, coughing and gagging viscously. The gunk splattered all over the ground like water or any other fluid or liquid.

This happens constantly after I've drank down too much liquor and alcohol for my body to hold down.

A random woman approached me all of a sudden to help me out. She asked if I was ok, I said I was not. She asked if I needed assistance, I told her that I did, and I also needed a bathroom. Now that I look back on that night I didn't know what was going on the minute they were happening. The next thing I knew she had me by the arm and we were walking up to the small convenient store. Everything seemed like things were going slow. I turned my head towards this woman to look at her, but I couldn't make out what her face looked like at the moment. I knew it was a girl because of her sweet young voice. She must be a young one like me. The only thing I could make out was her skin color, dark skin. She's an African American.

We got into the 7-Eleven and she asked the clerk if there was a restroom. We were directed where it was and she led me to them. Once we were outside them she let me walk on my own. I felt like an encore was coming quickly so I locked myself inside a stall and disgorged again. This time it was worse than earlier. My eyes shut tightly and my eyes felt watery and my fingers shook as I clenched the toilet bowl. I felt like my throat was going to break as the vomit gushed out of me. My gagging was much louder than when I was in the parking lot.

I finished finally and I began to sob in seconds. I cried miserably because I wanted the vomiting to be over, I wanted the pain to stop, I wanted it all to be over. I realized that hangovers sucked and that I was tired of feeling sick. I asked myself what I was doing, and why I was doing this.

It occurred to me that this drinking habit that I have wasn't worth it, and that it solved nothing really. It was getting me nowhere.

I got up from the floor and unlocked the stall. I walked over to a mirror, and I felt disgusted about what I saw. I didn't recognized myself in the mirror. My eyes where red and my face was pale and my nose was runny and red. I literally asked myself out loud that this was not suppose to be me, this was not suppose to be what I was doing. I guess I never really fully saw what I looked like as a heavy drinker. I felt ashamed.

My family was right all along. I needed help. I really can die if I don't quit. I looked myself in the mirror again, and I said "This ends now."

"Well it's a good thing you finally realized that you needed to seek help, Johnny.", Dr. Ellis said. "It'll be the best decision you've ever made. Thank you for sharing. Does anyone have any questions for Johnny?"

Lana, another drug addict, raised her hand. "Do you remember what that girl that helped you looked like, or what her name was?"

I shook my. "Not really. I don't really have a good memory of that night. I just know that I got into a heated argument with my step-dad and mom and I left. When I was walking in the streets was when everything was foggy, I guess. I don't think I asked for her name."

"Are you glad that she came to you?", Maria asked.

"I am actually. I didn't think someone would come and helping me out. I thought that was nice of her, whoever she was."

"Well, " Dr. Ellis started, "it seems like you had a savior with you if you ask me."

I didn't quite understand. "Usually when someone meets someone that they don't really know who they are when a miracle happens is called having a savior or a guardian angel with you. Maybe this woman was yours."

I didn't think much of her until now that I was told this. I thought I just decided to quit was because I hated what being an alcoholic made me look like when I looked in the mirror, not because of a random person doing a good act.

For the rest of the day when we'd be doing team exercises and activities that would help with our treatments to eating dinner once again to that night of my second day here in the rehab I kept thinking about that mystery girl. I tried to block that night and everything that happened away from my mind but when I would she'd be the only thing sticking out.

"You look like you're in deep thinking mode my friend.", Brady said. "Why so concentrated?"

"Remember when I said that a girl helped me up?", I asked him as I sat up in my bed. "I keep wondering who she is, or why she wanted to help a loser like me."

"It's called being at the right place at the right time. People say that God always makes weird shit happen for a reason and maybe that was one of them."

Brady covered his mouth and coughed roughly. I looked at him with both worry and disturbance. I really didn't like how he coughed so loudly, and I didn't like how pale he looked with just skin and bones. When I'd look at him he'd look dead already, and I thought that that wasn't normal.

"Are you feeling ok?", I asked him.

"Nah, I just feel a bit under the weather. It's just a cold, it'll pass.", he told me. I knew that this couldn't be true. I had the idea that the drugs he's done was doing this to him. I was worried for him ever since hearing his story about why he's here. When he was thirteen Brady lost an aunt that he was really close to, and since he was raised as a Christian he knew the whole thing of God's way. But he felt that God taking his aunt was wrong, and he blamed Him and started to rebel against the religion.

Then when he got older and got to his twenties he lose his job. To deal with it Brady started his drug abuse, taking all kinds of substances like LSD and Methamphetamine and crack cocaine. For the time that he started to when he was admitted here he'd use them to get rid of all the pain.

I really felt sorry for him and felt bad about what he's gone through.

"Do the nurses do anything for you? I mean you look really seriously sick, dude.", I told him.

Brady was silent for a moment, and I was wondering if asking the questions I was asking were too personal. "They do, but even they think what they do for me isn't enough.", he said. "There'd be times where I'd be so sick that they'd rush me to the hospital."

"How many times have you gone?"

"A few times I think. They've all told me that I look like I don't have a chance of recovering, but I don't want to think about that right now. I'm here because I've had lots of near death experiences that don't stop. I'm here because I don't want to die just yet." He looked at me, and I looked at him. Even though it was dark, I can see that his eyes were filled with regret. "I'm not too proud of what I've done. I really regret taking all of the drugs. You just drink lots and lots of booze, at least you didn't have it hard as I did, other than your parents divorcing."

"Right.", I said.

"You're still just a kid since you're younger than I am, Johnny Boy. You should be living life. You got a guitar with you, you should be a musician."

"Right.", I said again.

"You should find that girl that helped you. She's your guardian angel. At least you have one." Brady rolled over to where his back was to me. Now I was back to wondering who that girl was. It's like it was becoming my new obsession, but at least it was a healthy obsession.

Who ever she was, I hope she was living a well deserved life. I hope she's as nice as the night she helped me.


End file.
